


The Martial Art of Diplomacy

by Maldoror_Chant



Category: One Piece
Genre: CP9 - Freeform, Hattori - Freeform, M/M, because CP9, clueless narrator, mentions of violence assassination and plotting, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maldoror_Chant/pseuds/Maldoror_Chant
Summary: Lord Mayfair was the head of Mariejoie's Peace Party, and this diplomatic mission would help ensure peace between the World Government and the Pirate Emperors.As Rob Lucci and Kaku - his brand new honor guards - would say: "We wouldn't want that to fail, now, would we."





	The Martial Art of Diplomacy

_Before the mission_

 

"Well, this seems to be in order, however short the notice. I guess you'll be joining us on our trip to Sandor tomorrow morning. Or rather, in a few hours." Ambassador Lord Mayfair folded the written orders the two men had handed him, taking care to keep the paper away from the candle. It illuminated his snuff box collection, which he'd been polishing at his desk one last time before departure. "Are you diplomatic attachés? Say, you wouldn't be translators, by any chance? We need those. What is your line of work? These documents don't say."

"We're assassins," Rob Lucci informed Lord Mayfair as if this was the most natural thing in the world to say.

Mayfair stared at him, appalled, until the other agent, who'd introduced himself as Kaku, amended that with "We've done some spy work as well" as if that would sound any better, at which point the ambassador turned that same appalled look on him. "And infiltrations."

"Sabotage," added Lucci.

"Agent provocateur," Kaku tagged on.

"Blackmail, here and there."

"And there was that Enies Lobby Buster Call business, I'm not even sure what you'd call that."

"A bloody hash," muttered Lucci, turning a fleetingly sour look out the night-darkened window.

"But our principal line of work is assassination," Kaku finished, smiling down at the ambassador who was gripping his sideburns in horror.

"But I say! What in blue blazes-..." Mayfair took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was now a diplomat and couldn't afford to fly off the handle. "Um...Thank you for your...candor, gentlemen, but what I fail to understand is, why have you been assigned to this diplomatic mission with me?"

"Orders."

"But- but why?"

Lucci shook his head a fraction. "We don't question orders, sir."

"We were told to come here by our Director, Mr Spandam," his colleague elaborated. "We're to be your security detail on Sandor. The Peace Party in parliament insisted this mission is of the highest importance. The government has accorded you the rank of plenipotentiary diplomat with A-level security clearance, which is why we told you the truth when you asked us about our background."

"Yes. Otherwise we'd have to kill you."

Mayfair gave Lucci the appalled look again. He wasn't used to people being so blunt about such things. In Lord Mayfair's stratified world, governments were there to insure that the common folk didn't have to trouble their simple, honest heads about matters of high policy. In that optic, peace was a jolly good thing for a government to achieve; thus the laborer could labor upon his honest toil undisturbed, and Lord Mayfair and his friends could govern without too much of a headache and have plenty of time to hunt ducks, collect snuff boxes and occasionally show up in parliament to have a snooze in the back seats. Mayfair wasn't totally unaware that there were additional subtleties to governance, ugly little secrets in the back corridors of power where the old guard of the civil service ran the World Government with paper, pens and blood. But like most of the Mariejoie politicians and nobles whose positions had been supported by this system for centuries, Mayfair had gotten very good at not thinking about it. 

For his congenial abilities to overlook the flaws in the system and to blast a duck to smithereens at fifty feet, Mayfair's fellow aristocrats considered him to be 'a mighty fine fellow'. Those men in the Peace Party of lesser birth and distinction considered him to be 'an overbred fathead', and a couple of them had actually told him so to his face when Mayfair had insisted that he be the one charged with this glorious mission to Sandor. But Lord Mayfair knew he was the right choice for these parleys; he was distinguished, he was noble, he was decided. Who else could possibly go? (His detractors had eventually conceded that he was indeed the best choice, though more on the strength of Mayfair's mother being Sandori, which acquainted him with their language and custom, rather than for his sterling merits). 

"But I can't bring, um, government secret agents to Sandor with me. It took me months and all my family connections to get the Duke to agree to these talks. It will be my party's crowning moment. If our negotiations in Sandor succeed, then we might, with a few concessions on our part, have peace with the Pirate Empires."

"Yes. And we wouldn't want that to fail, would we," said Lucci, stroking the breast feathers of the pigeon perched on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you appreciate that, my good fellow, but the Sandori are very susceptible, and many courtiers are hostile to Mariejoie. We could have an international incident on our hands at the least provocation-"

"Oh, but we won't be assassinating anybody," Kaku hastened to reassure him. "Our mission is only to support yours, ambassador. Consider us an honour guard."

Lucci nodded. "We're the highest ranking field agents in the government, even if our status is a closely kept secret. Director Spandam and his connections in Parliament insisted that if your mission was of such importance, then it must have the best the government can offer to protect it if it was to proceed."

"Don't worry, sir. We can be very diplomatic when we need to be. Isn't that right, Lucci?"

"Quite."

"Besides, we'll be under your supervision entirely, ambassador. Our director was very firm on that, we're to obey your orders to the letter. No killing anybody unless you tell us to."

" _Tell_ you to- I would never! The Mayfairs have always been reputable in their affairs! To have a man assassinated is a cad's game, it's dishonor-er-" Mayfair spluttered to a halt.

"Well then, we won't be having any issues, will we," said Lucci, smooth as the flat of a knife.

Mayfair opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "Oh," he finally said, defeated. "Well. I guess I will get my secretary out of bed and see if he can get you a couple of tickets for berths on the _Pride of Mariejoie_ tomorrow...the captain was very strict about discretion and security, so was the government, I wasn't even allowed to bring Lady Mayfair with me- oh." From his breast pocket, Lucci had pulled two pieces of paper with little anchors printed on the back, identical to the one in Mayfair's desk drawer. "Oh, I see. Remarkably prepared of you, old chap. That will save my secretary a lot of work. Jolly good. And thank you for your, um, protection. I'm sure we'll get along. Right. Yes, of course. Right, right."

Mayfair's blinding optimism was bobbing up again like a cork. This was certainly unexpected, and he wasn't entirely pleased with having two people pressed upon him - not even minor nobility, no, members of the _civil service_. But they did appear to be well-spoken, well-educated, polite and fairly pleasant, all in all. And discreet; he'd not heard them or guessed their presence in his inner sanctum earlier until one of them had politely cleared his throat. It was true that Lord Mayfair and his mission warranted the attention of high-ranking servants of the government (Mayfair's mind had already done a good job of editing 'assassin' out of his memory). Who knew, these two might even be an asset. 

 

 

_Day One_

 

The landing, followed by the formal introductions and the ceremonial exchange of gifts, went smoothly. The whole day looked like the beginnings of a remarkable diplomatic success until about five minutes to midnight, when Mayfair found himself summoned to examine a dead body. An extremely dead body, formerly belonging to one of Sandor's nobility.

He'd been initially very pleased to discover that Lucci and Kaku spoke Sandor's native tongue. Mayfair had thought he'd be the only one in their delegation to be able to address the Sandori properly. Sandor was an old-fashioned society rife with ideas of honor, etiquette and nationality; addressing them in their own language was considered a sign of respect, and an excellent ice-breaker.

Mayfair had been in council with the Secretary of Sandor Principality, Lord Walbur, a long-time drinking partner of Mayfair's Sandori uncle. The ambassador's bodyguards had waited outside, watching the window from the garden and talking with the young Sandor nobles who'd been practicing their _epée_ nearby. The ambassador remembered glancing out the window at the scene and thinking that this well-mannered exchange of culture among young men of good standing was exactly what peace missions were about. Unfortunately, while talking with one of the gentry, Lucci made a minor slip-up with the Sandori accent. Sandorian was notoriously traitorous in that regard; the slightest error in diphthong could change the whole meaning of a sentence, so that the _politesse_ 'I hope your family are well' came out, most unfortunately, as 'I knocked up your sister'. 

A little discussion would have surely resolved the issue and defused the unintended insult, but in hindsight Mayfair wasn't surprised that violence had ensued. Lucci and Kaku had behaved as perfect gentlemen ever since they set foot on the island, yet there was something about them, about Lucci in particular, that seemed to provoke hot-headed young nobles to the extreme. The peer of the realm that Lucci had accidentally insulted issued a challenge to redress the wrong done to his sister's honor. Lucci had accepted. Mayfair was now blinking blearily at a very dead peer, with Lord Walbur standing across the bier waggling his bushy eyebrows at Mayfair in a way that wasn't very promising.

 

 

_Day Two_

 

Having killed a man the previous evening hadn't affected Lucci's appetite. Mayfair found himself trying to discuss the matter over breakfast the next day while the two agents enjoyed kippers, broiled lungs and deviled kidneys (Sandori cuisine was as notorious as its accent). 

"Of course I would rather have avoided a fight," said Lucci as he spooned some kind of meat jam onto a scone.

"Of course," Mayfair said automatically, poking around the table for something edible. Being half Sandori himself, he could normally stomach this kind of menu, if not enjoy it, but his insides were still giving little lurches every time he remembered the look of dumb surprise on the dead peer's face. 

Kaku munched on a dried evil-looking fish with every appearance of appreciating the culinary experience. "Yes," he said after picking a bone from his teeth, "we normally wouldn't bother with small fry like that."

"I see- what?!"

"I would have ignored him, but we studied up on Sandor society before our mission," Lucci went on, unperturbed. "Once the challenge was issued, I believe it would have damaged the standing of our delegation much more had I refused than if I'd accepted it. Or did I misunderstand the Sandori code of honor?"

Mayfair put down his tea, his stomach twinging and depression settling in. He was reluctant to admit it, but he knew considerably more about Sandori society than either agent possibly could, and in this instance Lucci happened to be correct. 

"Don't worry, ambassador," said Lucci in a reassuring tone of voice that failed to do much for Mayfair considering the subject. "I followed Sandori dueling etiquette to the letter. I even killed him with a fencing saber, which is bending my own principles a little. In my book, swords are for losers who've never fully mastered the innate abilities of their own bodies."

There was a _clink_ to Mayfair's left. Kaku had put down his teacup and was giving Lucci a blindingly amiable smile. Lucci was looking back with a raised eyebrow that seemed to say "Yes? Got something to say?" Mayfair missed this exchange because he was too busy thanking their lucky stars Lucci hadn't said _that_ to the young nobles yesterday; the crack about the sister would have been nothing compared to disparaging fencers, the agent would have spent the day fighting duels and would have decimated the entire next generation of Sandori nobility by the looks of the lordling's well-pierced body. 

As it were, Mayfair had discussed the matter with Lord Walbur last night and it seemed the Sandori considered honor to have been served and no lasting harm done to the peace mission. Which was good, but the incident had started the whole negotiations off on a note of violence that Mayfair would have rather avoided.

"Look, Lucci...do you think it would be possible to avoid any further duels? Or any form of fighting? First off, please use the universal Grand Line language from now on -"

"I'm sorry, ambassador." Lucci looked honestly troubled. "After the duel last night, several questions were asked about my technique, and I've accepted a few demonstration matches today."

Mayfair groaned and buried his head in his hands. A young Sandori noble whose rear end had gotten whipped in a friendly fencing exercise by a non-Sandori was not going to take that lying down.

"I might have a solution, ambassador," Kaku said kindly, still looking at Lucci. "Lucci promised a demonstration match, but he never actually said with whom. The two of us could spar off against each other and spare the flower of Sandor aristocracy any bruises to the ego. Or elsewhere."

Mayfair looked at him with tears of gratitude in his eyes (partly due to the deviled kidney he'd picked at). "Thank you, that'd answer perfectly. No harm could possibly come of that."

Mayfair would remember those exact words ten hours later when he was shown the remains of part of the palace's ornamental garden surrounding the practice grounds. Lord Walbur was there, waggling his eyebrows again. Apparently the demonstration had been quite interesting, _quite_ interesting, though a little more heated than the spectators had anticipated, with one of the two 'foreign gentlemen' seeming quite insistent that 'swords were _not_ for losers' and intent on proving it. Incidentally, did Lord Mayfair know how old and venerated that topiary was? Yes, the one over there that looked like it'd been used as a scrubbing brush...

 

 

_Day Three_

 

The next day, the properly chastened agents both solemnly promised to not get into any more fights, with each other or anyone else. They would stick to being Mayfair's ceremonial guard and cause no more trouble. Mayfair was still in a state of nervous anticipation. Today was the day he was going to be officially introduced to the court - despite having been living in the palace for the past three days and meeting everyone but the Duke - and everything had to go without a hitch. 

Stiff and formal in his brocade coat, Mayfair marched up the steps to be officially greeted by Lord Walbur and the latter's eyebrows, all pretending they'd never seen Mayfair before. Such was etiquette. The Secretary of Sandor Principality was resplendent in a cinched tunic of purple velour and blue satin pliés, red pantaloons and hose over which he wore the traditional silk garter (Mayfair had made sure his two bodyguards and the entire delegation knew _not to mention the garter_. Or the stuffed hog's head a guard was carrying, or the silver-handled broom wielded like a halberd by the Court's First Page, or the pennies scattered underfoot; Sandor's court clung on tenaciously to the most obscure of rituals and traditions even when their origins had been long lost in time). 

A herald as bedazzling as the Secretary exclaimed: "Who approaches? Friend or foe?"

...Mayfair had been so sure he'd covered everything. He'd warned his delegation about the garter, the other odds and ends that were not to be laughed at, the endless protocol speeches that were about to follow, and he'd made sure Lucci and Kaku knew they were supposed to stay at least three feet behind him during the introduction. 

What a pity he'd forgotten to warn them that the herald would draw a ceremonial sword at this juncture and point it at Mayfair's breast to symbolize the readiness of the Duke's courtiers to defend his Grace to the death. Mayfair would regret infinitely forgetting to add that the weapon wasn't even sharp. Everything there was all part of tradition, except for the mud in the planters near the steps in which Mayfair and the herald ended up, along with Lord Walbur when Kaku accidentally bumped into him as he threw himself between his charge and an unforeseen danger. The mud, due to a light rain that morning, was not part of any ceremony, though it ended up playing a rather significant part in it. 

 

 

_Day Four_

 

After the formal introduction - what had been left of it - came the traditional hunt, organized to officially welcome foreign dignitaries into life at court. Mayfair managed to leave his bodyguards (and causes of his growing ulcer) in the group of soldiers, servants and sundry in the rear. 

The Lord Minister of Naval Matters, one of Mayfair's fiercest opponents in court who stood wholesale on the side of the New World pirates, loosed his hawk at a passing pigeon to warm up his bird for larger game.

Through circumstances nobody was able to adequately explain, the pigeon turned around, pulled a couple of karate moves and clouted the hawk. It was a very expensive hawk. The Lord Minister of Naval Matters rode back to the palace, muttering about bad omens. Mayfair, who had excellent vision and a good eye for birds, thought the pigeon looked familiar as it flew away- but no, no, he was getting paranoid, and he didn't need that, matters were bad enough as they stood.

 

 

_Day Five_

 

Mayfair could feel his hair going grey with every step up to the grand ballroom. This was the culmination of his trip, when he'd finally meet the Duke after jumping through the hoops imposed by court etiquette. He'd have gladly consigned his two bodyguards to quarters, but Lord Walbur had let it be understood that the Duke would like to meet them. 

"Look, you two, tonight's ball is in the Duke's honor. Duels are discouraged and any affront would put both parties in hot water with His Grace, so _stay calm_."

"We're always calm."

"I mean, don't kill any- good evening, countess- don't _kill anyone_. Or hurt anybody. Or break stuff. Or do _anything_. That's an order."

"Of course."

"And whatever you do- oh, Duke! At last! Your Grace, it is an honor. Your most humble servant. Um, you know my entourage."

"I've certainly heard a lot about them."

The way he said that, Mayfair could visualize the Duke - a high-blooded man of thirty who fancied himself a great fencer - challenging one or both of the agents to 'a little match'. Mayfair's blood pressure spiked a few more notches.

"Well, now you've met them, Your Grace, and I'm sure they've felt privileged to meet you, so- Lucci, Kaku, I need to talk a few things over with the Duke _privately_ so why don't you two go and mingle. But don’t talk to anybody. Or do anything. Um." Mayfair flushed as he realized the Duke was staring at him.

Kaku cocked his head; the orchestra had started up with a smooth, slow number. "It looks like people are beginning to dance, maybe we could go-"

Mayfair leaped at the suggestion. "Yes! Yes, capital idea. You two go and join the ball." Dancing was probably the least harmful activity these two walking disasters were capable of, and once they set foot on the dance floor, there'd be a whole line of eager ladies willing to be their partners. Sandori women were consistently attracted to that kind of man, the deadlier the better, it was part of what kept the dueling culture alive and well. Mayfair had already read the riot act about How To Treat Sandori Ladies - and how to politely sidestep their flirtations - to the entire delegation, and the music would soon be too loud for any faux-pas to be heard. Things should go smoothly while he finally fulfilled his mission with the Duke.

"Your Grace, may I say again what an honor-"

"Get to the point, Mayfair." Being the Duke, he could bluntly cut through the reams of etiquette that bound the rest of the court. "I can tell you right off that I'm not very inclined to listen to anything out of Mariejoie. Treating with the Pirate Emperors has kept Sandor safe and flowing with commerce and income for decades." 

"And we wouldn't want to compromise that at all, Your Grace, that is in fact why I'm here. We would like to not only create links with Sandor, but also build bridges to the New World. If you would like to hear exactly what we have in mind-"

Mayfair drew himself up to his full bombastic height and proceeded to outline the Peace Party's plan, only to realize he'd lost the attention of his audience. The Duke's face had gone an odd shade of purple and his eyes were bulging as they fixed a spot behind the ambassador. Mayfair looked over his shoulder, wondering with horror what the two agents had gotten up to now. He took a few seconds to locate them, half secluded as they were, and to his brief amazement they weren't doing anything violent. No, they were in a discreet corner of the room away from the lights, the orchestra and the other couples, doing what they'd say they'd do and no more, just dancing-

Together. They were dancing - the both of them - both _men_ \- dancing together to the music.

Mayfair watched, unable to think, say or do anything other than let his jaw sag all the way to the floor. The two agents weren't putting on an ostentatious display as they moved together, it was in no way provocative (the words _agent provocateur_ floated through Mayfair's devastated mind without really connecting to anything). But men didn't dance like _that_ together. The best of male friends never got closer than manly-slap-on-the-shoulder distance or else testosterone acted like magnets of same polarity and shoved them apart with a few crude comments and highly embarrassed looks around. No signs of embarrassment here, however, instead there was-...Kaku smiled as he sidestepped in time to the smooth beat. Lucci looked attentive as he brought him close again, hand fitting on the small of his partner's back as if they'd done this before. The word percolating through Mayfair's horrified mind was 'intimacy'. And dear god now everybody was staring. 

Which was when Mayfair remembered just _how_ conservative Sandor society was...

 

 

_After the mission_

 

"Director-"

"Yaaaagh! Agh! Ow! Kalifa, I told you not to sneak up on me like that!"

"I assumed you'd heard me, Director Spandam, I wasn't walking particularly softly. Does that hurt, sir?"

"I just dropped coffee on my- my- what do you _think_ , you- you- er-"

"Sir, using that tone with a female agent is sexual harassment."

"But- but-...Okay, okay, I'm sorry-"

"Speaking to me in that patronizing manner is sexual harassment."

"Ng!! Just-...tell me what you came in here for. Any news from Lucci by any chance?"

"Yes sir, we received a message a few minutes ago."

"Bloody hell, _finally_! What took them so long?!"

"As I understand it, their mission parameters were quite constraining."

"Cry me a river. Okay, so what does Lucci say?"

"I decrypted the message. Here's the transcript. 'Negotiations with Sandor broken off indefinitely. Delegation and Ambassador Mayfair retrieved safely from Sandor. Only casualties were Sandori. Followed Ambassador Mayfair's instructions to the letter during the entire stay as ordered. Mission successful.'"

"I should damn well hope so. That will leave the bloody Peace Party with no cause for complaint and not a leg to stand on. But those two sure took their sweet time. Five days! Why, if I'd been there, with my strategic cunning and my-"

"Right. More coffee, director?"

"Hmm? Why, sure, thanks- Yaaaagh!"

"Oh, so sorry, director."


End file.
